


Back to the Past

by himboalfred, storylinecontinuum



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human and country names used, M/M, Pirates, Tags + characters + ships will be updated with every chapter!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himboalfred/pseuds/himboalfred, https://archiveofourown.org/users/storylinecontinuum/pseuds/storylinecontinuum
Summary: The nations have decided to join forces over the past year to create a time machine. America accidentally gets it to work, and travels back in time and comes face to face with something he's never seen before:An England stronger than him.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	Back to the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 👋 Ella and I have been speaking about this project for weeks, and it's finally here! I hope you enjoy our baby.

America slams his car door behind him after he exits, whistling. He spins his keyring around his finger and then pockets them. There’s an extra pep in his step as he heads up the stairs leading to England’s house. He sees two cars in the driveway, one being England’s own, and snorts to himself at the familiar bumper stickers on the black Audi.

Since last year, the nations have decided to be in complete unity–for once–so they can create a time machine. Because they’re all joining forces, there’s a prize for the person who actually gets the time machine to work to create some healthy competition and good work ethic between them all. Despite this, Germany, Austria, and all the other boring nations are only getting involved “to preserve history” or something boring like that.

America’s motivation? The prize. It’s a cute goldfish, and he already has a name _and_ an aquarium tank picked out for the little dude. Whaley needs a friend, and this is the perfect opportunity!

He also wants to see the dinosaurs, but meh. Goldy comes first. 

America opens the door and walks inside like he owns the place. “Honey, I’m home!” he sings, and grins when he hears a responding British curse, muffled by distance.

They chose England’s house because he has all those occult books and witchcraft things, and although America doesn’t believe in any of that magic pixie fairy stuff, England’s basement is _scary._ And as the self proclaimed King of movies, the older nation’s cellar is the perfect scenario for a time travel machine to work. It’s science, trust him.

“Yo, Meri!” Prussia calls out, voice getting louder as he ascends the basement stairs. “I’m totally making moves on this machine. Birdie Version Two is gonna be mine!”

“You’re hitting on the machine?” Germany asks, not looking up from his book. He’s sitting on the couch, completely unbothered. 

“It’s a figure of speech, West. You’re such a boomer,” Prussia says with a disappointed shake of his head. Germany frowns and saves his page as he closes the book and sets it down.

America laughs. “Dude, no way. Goldy’s gonna be mine!” 

“Goldy is a gay name,” Prussia retorts.

Before America can retort back with an epic “ _You’re_ gay,” England makes his presence known in the doorway of the basement by clearing his throat obnoxiously, and then shuts the door behind him.

“You’re late,” he says, glaring at America. Inwardly, the taller nation sighs. It seems England wants to pick a fight, _again._

“I got caught up in a game with Kiku,” America admits sheepishly. England continues glaring, and his mouth twitches as if he’s actively fighting off a scowl. “But have no fear, the hero’s here now! Let’s get to it and get time travelin’!” America beams and gives a thumbs up. Though he can’t see himself, he knows his Hollywood smile is practically sparkling. No way Iggy can stay mad at that.

“ _You_ can do that. _We_ have been here all morning, so it’s time for us to enjoy a nice lunch break.” England pushes past him, and America makes a face at the man’s attitude. 

“Whatever. I’ll get more work done without you yapping in my ear!” 

“As if you ever get any work done you lazy hog!” 

Prussia grins as his eyes dart between the two, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Germany places a hand on England’s shoulder and gives the pair a strained smile.

“We’ll be back soon, Alfred.” Germany ushers Prussia out before the albino can add fuel to the flame. England puts on his shoes and gives America a dirty look.

“Do try to not set my house ablaze, will you?” 

America sticks out his tongue and flips England the bird, then opens the door to the basement and stomps down the steps. He stops halfway down, and loses steam once he hears the front door slam shut, signaling he’s alone.

He descends the stairs much more quietly and slower knowing that no one’s around to hear his tantrum, and jumps the last two, landing on the hard cement with a thud. America wastes no time and runs over to a table next to some– _surprise, surprise_ –bookshelves. He kneels down, grinning widely at the open bowl filled with water and one tiny goldfish.

“Howdy Goldy!” he says cheerfully, sucking in his cheeks and puckering his lips like a fish. Goldy stays in front of his face, almost in a trance. The fish opens and closes its mouth, and America laughs. He pulls out his phone and takes a selfie with Goldy, then sets it face down on the table.

“I feel ya, buddy! Did those jerks not feed you too?” America grabs the fish food set next to the bowl and carefully takes a pinchful, sprinkling the flakes into the open bowl. Goldy nips at the food, and America sets down the plastic container.

“Iggy’s in a mood again,” America says conversationally to Goldy, and he knows anyone would make fun of him for talking to a fish about his life problems but they just don’t get it. Animals totally have a fifth sense.

America walks over to the work in progress time machine. It’s very simplistic in design, which was a suggestion they all agreed on. The time machine is built like an empty entranceway, with a platform to stand on in between what would be doors. It gleams even in the dim light of England’s cellar from the metallic silver plating, and there are little light bulbs littered up and down the front and back of the machine, all stacked right on top of each other like sardines.

“Blub,” Goldy gurgles. America nods in agreement.

“I know dude. It seems like me and Iggy just never get along, even though he’s supposed to be my closest ally.” America brushes his fingers along the inside of the time machine, and cringes when he realizes he’s left behind fish food crumbs. He shrugs and doesn’t bother to wipe them away. It’s not like anything will happen with a little fish grub, right?

“Glub blub?” Goldy seems to ask, and America starts tinkering with the machinery as he mulls the question over.

“He claims it isn’t the reason, but my revolution totally drove this wall between us that I still feel to this day. It sucks, I just wanted to be his equal,” America grumbles as he steps inside the machine and touches over the screws to feel for any loose ones. “Now, he’s a boring old man and he _still_ nags me like I’m a kid!”

Goldy stays silent. America notices a miniscule, miniature screw missing at the very bottom of the side in the machine. He steps out of the machine and towards a larger table next to it, filled with all the necessities to build anything your heart desires.

He grabs the screwdriver and replaces the head with a smaller one, then searches for the appropriate screw. It’s nowhere on the table of tools, nor is it anywhere on the floor nearby.

“Huh.” America adjusts his glasses with his free hand and squints along the bookshelves. He grins triumphantly as a glint catches his eye, and he rushes over to the shelf towards the back of the basement. The screw is hidden in between two books, but the very tip is sticking out. America grabs the little screw in between his fingers, then glances at the books where it was wedged in between.

The first book is a collection of Shakespeare plays, which causes America to roll his eyes as he makes a face. _Typical_ _boring Iggy book._

The second book has no title, but there’s a pirate ship on the front and a lot of treasure chests. America walks back to the machine and steps inside, kneeling down to get a better angle as he holds the mini screw in it’s correct spot.

His tongue pokes out between his lips in concentration as he carefully screws the tiny metric screw into place. It almost looked like someone had purposely misplaced the small piece, but why? And more importantly, who?

“Blub?” America hears Goldy pipe up, and waits until the screw is tightened before responding.

“No. With France, it’s different. They fight, yeah, but they fight like grown ups. He always patricides me!” That’s the right word, right? America sucks his teeth and reaches out of the machine, then grabs something off of the edge of the tool table.

It’s a handheld remote, with only one button. Although it’s small, it’s filled with microchips and wires that connect it and make it compatible with the time machine. America’s aware of this, because it was mainly himself and Japan working on the remote. He may not be the smartest, but he _knows_ his technology and science. Don’t airplanes ring a bell to anyone?

“Whatev. He’s just mad that I’m cooler than he’s ever been in his entire life, ain’t that right Goldy?” America asks with a grin over at the fish bowl. “Alright little buddy. Let’s test this and see if I can finally take you home and introduce you to the family!”

With that movie one-liner, America pushes the button. He squeezes his eyes shut, bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly as he waits. After a few minutes of absolutely nothing, America unwillingly opens one eye and groans. “Man! Why won’t it work?”

America pouts at the remote, then at the machine he’s in, and finally all around the basement. He starts spam pressing the button angrily, muttering to himself.

“I just know this is _England’s_ fault!” America shouts, not noticing the first five rows of lightbulbs spark to life. 

“Blub,” Goldy’s wide eyes are focused on the machine, but America doesn’t hear or see, too focused on his button mashing.

“We should’ve never picked his basement. It’s filled with _about_ _1,600_ useless books,” The next few rows of lightbulbs set off at the number, and a whirring noise registers in the back of America’s mind, “All about lame _Shakespeare_ and his stupid _pirates!_ Everyone knows cowboys are way cooler!” 

America hits the button one last time, just as the rest of the lightbulbs light up the basement and illuminate the entire room. “Whoa, it’s working! Goldy, I get to take you home!” He tries to step out of the machine, but an invisible force blocks him. America touches what almost feels like a wall in front of the entrance way of the machine, and begins to feel the panic set in. “What the hell’s going on?”

America bangs his fist against the wall, but to no avail. His movements become more frantic, as does Goldy’s swimming, and he desperately tries to escape the suddenly confined space of the machine. Shoulder checking, punching, none of it works.

The lights get brighter with each attempt.

America winces as he feels a searing heat all over his body, and is forced to close his eyes once the lights get too harsh. The machine roars to life with a loud hum, and he’s surrounded by sensory overload. 

He feels hot from the machine but for some reason his body is freezing at the same time, there’s a faint smell of salty seawater, and if he focuses past the thrumming all around him he can almost hear seagulls squawking in the distance.

America feels his glasses fall off the bridge of his nose from a cold sweat that’s appeared out of nowhere, but keeps his grip tight on the remote in his hand instead of fixing them. 

The room is encased in a white flash, and then it’s all over. The lightbulbs are off, and look as if they were never turned on. The machine is silent, not even a faint hum remains. Everything is peaceful, normal, quiet.

America’s glasses clatter to the floor of the machine, disrupting the otherwise surreal, serene scene.

He’s nowhere to be seen inside the time machine.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, reviews mean the world <3 Come chat with us! @muzanjacksons & @historihet on tumblr :)


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